Tattoos and Scars
by bookwormjordi
Summary: What if Tobias didn't only get his tattoo to symbolize being more than one thing, but to hide something? Tobias goes to get his tattoo done by Tori and she shares her story with him once she sees the scars on his back left by his father. He wants to mask his old life, his father, and these scars that haunt him too.


I walk into the tattoo parlor, remembering the last time I was here. It was on a dare from some of my initiate instructors, they wanted me to get a tattoo. I decided on the patch of flames to go on my ribcage. Flames signify Dauntless right? By then I was already a Dauntless, I had passed, coming in first, a week ago. Tori was the one who did it, and now I was back for another tattoo. It has been almost a year since I received that first tattoo, and now I am back for another.

I have realized in my short time here just how corrupt this faction is...all of them really. I have also learned how closely related these factions are, how you can do one skill yet it is almost the exact same as another faction teaches. Like honesty and bravery. It requires bravery to be honest all the time and never tell a white lie to protect yourself and others. This is when I realized that I don't want to fit into just one faction. I want to be parts of all of them, so I can be the best person I can possibly be.

There's another reason why I'm here, though. I transferred to Dauntless to escape my father and his horrid beatings and cruelness. I want something to cover the scars his belt left on my back so no one, myself included, can ever see them again.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I see that Tori is the one in the tattoo place, and the only one. She administered my aptitude test, helped me jump on the train for the first time during initiation, and she also suspects that I'm Divergent and told me that she will keep my secret.

"Hello," I start nervously. "Is Bud here?"

"To- Four." she replies nodding at me. "No he's not, he took the day off. Why?"

"Um... I want another tattoo. On my back. I have an idea of what, I just need you to draw it for me first."

"Okay," she says getting out a sketchpad and a pencil. "Go ahead and sit down, Four. What were you thinking of?"

I tell her about wanting the five faction symbols down my back Dauntless and Abnegation bigger than the other three. How I want it to cover as much of my back as it possibly can. How I want nobody to know about the tattoo because they will not understand my desire to be the best person I can possibly be, and that can only be achieved by my being of all the factions that make up our society.

Tori gives me a skeptical look and asks, "Are you sure about this Four? You know that if anyone sees this they will want to throw you out of Dauntless and make you factionless."

"Positive." I tell her. "And I want all of it in black."

"Fine," Tori sighs. She points to the chair that I was on the last time. "On your stomach," she tells me getting out her tools.

I stand by the chair, waiting until she is ready. She walks over to me, raising her eyebrows. "Come on," she says, motioning for me to take of my shirt.

I open my mouth and think about telling her before, but it's better that she sees for herself. I reach my arm over my head and grab the back collar. I slowly pull it over my head the bruises on my ribcage hurting as arms stretch out. Yesterday was the demonstration for stage one and of course Eric would ask me to be part of it, so he could get back at me for beating him in initiation. All of those days in front of that computer screen are getting back at me. I do as Tori asks and lower myself on the chair. I can hear her gasp as she sees the white scars that are scattered across my back and the sides of my torso.

"To... Tobias," she whispers. "Who did this?"

"My father." I reply in the strongest tone I can muster. "Who else?"

Tori starts to wipe my back with cleaning alcohol, but I can tell that this conversation is not over. "I uh- I know what it's like, what it makes you feel like." she tells me, getting her tools ready.

I begin to sit up, surprised. "You do?" I ask.

"Yeah... My father used to beat my little brother. Georgie. Lay back down." she gives me a look, nodding to the chair. She continues when she sees that I did what she asked. "My dad would do it when he didn't do his chores, or when he got a bad grade on a test or paper. It was always worse when he would fail at something in school or do poorly at a competition that we were required to do because then it would be public humiliation to him. A failure as an Erudite father. So instead of fixing his mistakes, he would hit him for every eye that gave Georgie or him a disappointing look. I was the one that helped him in school, I was the one who would save some of my dinner to give to him because my father would deprive him of his meals. Intelligence just didn't come easy to him, you know? So I would try to stop my father by talking him out of it, by hiding his beer, and when that didn't work, I would jump in front of him and take the hits for Georgie. It didn't help that he was two years younger and small for his age. He was already taking enough from his classmates."

"Then why did you transfer to Dauntless?" I ask, not being able to not ask.

"I thought that by coming here, I would be able to show Georgie how to defend himself. Maybe show my father what it's like to be beaten and looked down upon. What it's like the next day, waking up with bruises all over your body and your little brother's because no matter what you say or do, he always gets to the person you're trying to protect." Her words distract me from the growing pain I feel on my back from the needle she is using to draw on my skin.

"What happened to your brother?" I interrupt again.

"He transferred to Dauntless. A friend of mine administered his test, and told me about his results. Divergent. I told him how to stay low and not to stick out, but there was nothing he could do. While I was gone he grew and had little problem with stage one, he ended up in the middle of group. Stage two, however, was when he excelled. First by a long shot. Nobody came even close. His instructors and the leaders took a special interest in him. One night, we were having dinner together, had fun, even. We were siblings again, without a cruel father to hurt us. The next morning, I'm told that he killed himself, jumped over the chasm ledge. Georgie would have never done that. He had a girlfriend from his initiate class. He had me. He was _happy_ for the first time in a long while. He had a future ahead of him, one where he could shoot for the stars, and eventually reach them. He didn't kill himself, I know that. The leaders, they killed him. At his funeral, they delivered the speech, looking at me with fake sympathy. I could have killed them. I should have killed them." Tori pauses, "I will kill them."

I don't have a response to that. What it would be like to not only have a mean father but to lose your brother too? "What about your mother?" I ask her, changing the subject.

"Her and my father got divorced. He knew the judge, so he won full custody. There was nothing she could do but watch as we were handed over. She remarried and had another child, but we would go over on the weekends sometimes because my father was required to let us or we would have gone and lived with her. She loved us, more than father ever did. Or would have."

"How much older was Georgie then me? I remember seeing him at school, but he was a couple years older so we never had any classes together." I recall.

"Two," she replies. "But he was technically only one, he was just two initiate classes older because of his birthday."

"And your father?"

"What about him?" she replies. "It's done, but let me get another mirror so you can see it." Tori says, referring to my tattoo.

"Did he die or..." I let the question trail off hoping that she'll answer me.

"He died in a car accident. He was drunk, and he crashed into a Candor woman. She died too."

I don't say I'm sorry because even though I am about her brother, I'm not sorry about her dad. He deserved what he got. So all I say is: "Thank you for the tattoo. It looks amazing." And it does. The five factions going down the middle of my back, then lines, thick towards the symbols, but they grow thin as they stretch towards my sides, neck, and shoulders. The tips of them wrap over my shoulders, and around my torso. There is now hardly any skin left unmarked on my back now, and for that, I am so grateful. There is another wall between me and Abnegation, between my father and I.

I will never be able to truly get rid of the scars that my father gave to me, because even if I get a new layer of skin, the memories will never leave me. This will work though, no longer having to see the marks left on my skin every time I look in the mirror. I might be able to forget for a little while, to forget long enough that I can build perhaps a new life in this faction, however corrupt it may be. These tattoos... they will never erase my scars... but they will hide them.


End file.
